Tag Archives: scrabble

Love was in the air.

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A rather tardy Valentines Day post.

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A bouquet of flowers was delivered that morning….

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And while I don’t think it was our local florist’s best work, the sentiment remained steadfast.

Early afternoon found us out in the barn and back at the Scrabble board.

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Although the way it started reminded me a little too much of Bill and Monica.

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Did I win?

Such a silly question.

Unbeknownst to my husband, I’d made early evening reservations at one of his favorite restaurants and before the place got too crowded, we slipped in for a glorious meal.

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Long stemmed red roses were given to ladies upon entry… and petals were scattered everywhere. On the floor, on the window sills, on the chairs…..

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Even under the beer taps.

We settled happily at the bar (the husband’s preferred spot because one of the bartenders was a Marine which can lead to hours long conversations) and I tucked into a few delightful Rum Punches. We had appetizers that I forgot to photograph… garlic Parmesan wings for the husband, creamy clam chowder for me… and were awaiting our meals when this older couple sat down across from us.

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In case you can’t see it, the man was wearing a Marine Corps tee shirt. It was at that moment I knew I was doomed.

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Like recognizes like… and within minutes the gentleman uttered the words I never want to hear on Valentines Day.

Semper Fi.

My husband bought them a round of drinks. They bought us a round of drinks. Military stories were traded across the bar….and by the time our lovely meals arrived?

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Filet Oscar with fresh lobster, roasted fingerling potatoes and grilled asparagus for the husband.

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Filet au Poivre with cremini mushroom brandied cream sauce, roasted fingerling potatoes and grilled asparagus for me…

I’d lost him.

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And ended up eating most of my meal alone.

So when I said love was in the air?

Apparently I was talking about the Corps.

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The tiles don’t lie.

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My weekly skunking of the husband at Scrabble in the Barn Mahal continues. And now? Even the tiles are getting in on the fun…

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Yes, those were really the letters I drew. And it’s pretty much what I did to the husband in game number one.

Not to be out done, our second game’s tiles had their say as well.

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My last four letters said it all.

Sorry, dear. I only do what the tiles tell me…

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Scrabble and the inaugural cocktail.

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Now that my seemingly endless supply of liquor bottles were strategically arranged on the custom made shelves…. it was time to get down to business.

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Cocktail business.

We have a favorite restaurant in Kennebunk that we haven’t visited for over a year. *insert audible sigh here* (The bartender is an old client of my husband’s and he’s been known to have a liberal pouring hand. I like that in a man.) My very favorite drink is made there and seeing that it’s won awards, I’m clearly not the only one who loves it.

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Calling it the nectar of the gods doesn’t begin to describe it’s mood elevating goodness, but trust me… it’s close.

So when our barn bar was being planned, built and outfitted? This divine concoction was never far from my mind.

Having never made one, I searched the web for a recipe but only came up with an ingredient list. Being out of Triple Sec I substituted Grand Marnier… and not knowing their homemade sour ingredients, I had to settle for bottled.

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The results were satisfying… if nowhere near the ambrosia level of the original.

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Bad Martha grudgingly approved, but said it still needed a little tweeking.

* side note – my iPhone’s spellcheck changed tweeking to twerking three times… to which Bad Martha thoroughly approves. *

Cocktail in hand, it was time to whip the husband.

At Scrabble! My name is not Martha.

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Game number one gave me a series of disastrous letters…. but I prevailed.

And the beginning of game number two?

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Didn’t begin much better.

( To answer your inevitable question… yes, I drew a ‘c’ Yes, I used that word. And yes, the husband added an ‘ed’ because in the end? He knew he was. )

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Because sometimes bigger really is better.

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Since skunking my husband at Scrabble has become a weekly pastime… I decided to up our game.

Literally.

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Bigger tiles for the where the hell did I leave my reading glasses now? visually challenged due to encroaching decrepitude crowd.

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And a much bigger, fancier, wooden, swiveling board with raised ridges to keep the letters in place.

How much bigger?

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Well, the box said giant and that’s a pretty apt description.

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So far we’re loving it.

But I’m afraid it’s going to have to be a permanent decorative fixture… because if you think the board is big, you should see the friggin’ enormous box it came in.

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Learn something new everyday.

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So I had to buy it.

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Because our weekly Scrabble games demanded it… and I’m tired of the husband getting mad when I tell him his word doesn’t exist.

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Hornito is a mound of volcanic matter?

I always thought it was a tequila.

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I admit to not knowing recta was the plural of rectum… and won’t comment on its proximity to the word rectory.

Nope. Not going there.

And speaking of Jesus…

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All this was fascinating but I draw the line here.

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Grr should not be an acceptable Scrabble word.

And grrrl?

Apparently it references a feminist punk rock movement in the Northwest called Riot Grrrl.

I call foul. And despise common usage additions to dictionaries.

P.S. don’t tell my husband.

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Is it wrong?

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Is it wrong that I’m taking great pleasure from whipping my other half in our weekly Scrabble games in the Barn Mahal?

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Round after round.

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Day after day.

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Do I chortle every time it happens? Yes.

But come on… he skunks me at pool. He murders me at darts. I don’t think I’ve ever beaten him at Monopoly, Risk or chess. But when it comes to contests of trivia or anything word related?

I rule.

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And yes, I take perverse pleasure in the victories.

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Because Scrabble is better with a little drinkie poo.

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And if you enjoy hard cider?

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You’ve got to try this brand I just discovered at Bootleggers. The liquor store, not this guy…

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Black Widow cider.

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It’s fabulous, and is named after a deadly spider. What more could you ask?

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As for Scrabble?

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I kicked the husband’s butt again, even with three out of the four U’s.

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Let the games begin.

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So now that we have a comfortable, heated and (well stocked with beer) man cave, it was time to get down to some serious board game playing. Covid social restrictions make multi player games like Pictionary and Cards Against Humanity a no go, so we searched for something fun to play with two people.

The husband won’t play Trivial Pursuit or Gin Rummy with me anymore because I wipe the floor with him every time. So we tried a game a friend had given us last year as a gift.

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Simple enough, you finish the lines from various categories… music, literature etc.

We played three games and I skunked my other half three times. Even though I gave him music questions from his favorite song.

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So we moved on to a classic, Scrabble.

It wasn’t an easy start and we didn’t have a lot to build from.

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My task was made even more difficult with letters like these.

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And these.

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And then these.

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But after a marathon four and a half hour game?

I won…. and my husband was pickled.

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